


When I'm Grown

by biswholocked



Series: JWP 2015 [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Memories, Community: watsons_woes, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, John's Childhood, Pre-Slash or Slash, Whatever Goggles You Desire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biswholocked/pseuds/biswholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Entertain yourself’ doesn’t mean ‘dig through the box of my childhood momentos without permission'.</p><p>Unless, of course, you're Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm Grown

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day thirteen of JWP. The prompt was: "A Tale Foretold. Watson comes across the first thing he ever wrote as a youth. It turns out to be prophetic". I considered not doing this prompt because I couldn't think of anything worthwhile to write, but when I opened my JWP doc and typed out the prompt, it turned out I did have something waiting to get out!
> 
> As the tags say, can be read as anything you like, from gen to pre-slash to established relationship.

“Well, that’s me off, then.”

Sherlock grumbles sulkily from where he’s curled up on the sofa, back to John. John rolls his eyes and runs a hand through Sherlock’s mussed curls before pulling open the door.

“I’ll be home round six. Entertain yourself, but for god’s sakes don’t do irreparable damage to our flat,” he says, and then leaves before he’s late for his shift (again).

When he gets home, Sherlock is sitting crosslegged on the floor of their sitting room, surrounded by papers and artifacts. It’s only when John catches sight of a time-worn photo album that he realises what Sherlock’s inspecting. John crosses the sitting room to stand behind Sherlock and sighs.

“You know, ‘entertain yourself’ doesn’t mean ‘dig through the box of my childhood momentos without permission'.”

Sherlock doesn’t bother to look up from the album. “Perhaps next time you’ll be more precise,” he says distractedly. The _besides, you don’t mind_ is unspoken, but John hears it anyway. (And admits to himself that Sherlock is right, too, the git.) Shaking his head, John leaves Sherlock to it and goes into the kitchen.

“Tea?”

Sherlock makes a humming noise that sounds slightly interested. John takes it as assent and pulls two mugs down from the cabinet and fills the kettle. When the tea’s finished, John carries it into the sitting room and settles into his chair with his own cup, and holds the other out to Sherlock. He takes it with a brief smile, then goes back to the notebook he’s now reading through.

“Your childhood diary-”

“ _Diary?_ ”

“-is remarkably prophetic,” Sherlock continues, ignoring John’s protest. The words take a moment to register, but when they do John takes a sip of tea and blinks in surprise.

“How so?”

Sherlock clears his throat and affects the tone of a narrator. “Today Mrs Jenkins asked us to write about what we wanted to do when we were grown up, and share with the class. I said I wanted to be a doctor in the army, but one that also got to do all the battle stuff and learn how to shoot and fight. Mrs Jenkins said that doctors in the army don’t do that, but she’s wrong. I know it.” Sherlock stops reading aloud and looks at John with a raised eyebrow. “Handwriting comparison and the date upon with you received the notebook indicate you were about seven years of age at the time. Interesting, isn’t, how our childhood dreams can affect our decisions later in life?”

John grins. “Indeed,” he agrees, with a look towards the skull that stares at them from the mantel. “You’ve really let your inner pirate develop over the years.”

“Shut up,” Sherlock mutters, and John hides the resulting chuckle behind his cup of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/ con crit always welcome!


End file.
